Burns are the Worst Kind of Pain
by readlovehappiness
Summary: My first breakfast club fic. No need for a summary. I'm sure you get the idea from the title and the characters involved. Summaries suck. Just click the link.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: _Okay so I know I haven't written in a while but I've been super busy with school and drama (I'm sure you all know) and I just got back into writing again (finally). Anyway, this is my first Breakfast Club fic. I watched the movie a week or so ago and I fell in love. Claire and Bender =forever 3 So I hope you enjoy my story. I realized after I wrote it that Bender probably doesn't use a lot of big words so I did my best to change it so that he sounded super street smart. He also may be a tiny bit out of character but I like to imagine that he does feel pain and get upset like other people would. Thank you in advance for reading my story and thank you for reading this extremely long author's note._**

**_Love you all _**

**_~Readlovehappiness_**

"What did you say to me, boy?" I could hear my father's temper rising. I was afraid of what would happen if I didn't answer him, but I was more afraid of what would come from my mouth.

I ground my teeth together, hoping to keep the words from spilling from my lips. Seventeen years of living with my father had taught me when to hold my tongue.

The man in front of me was large, a lot stronger than I am, and a lot more stupid than me, too. He roughly grabbed my face forcing it upward. My father's eyes, which I had so carefully been avoiding, locked onto mine. I could see the blind hatred in them. I struggled a bit against his hand, but the grip on my chin only got stronger.

The lack of eye contact had been the only thing tying my tongue, but now that I could see the senseless anger in my father that was directed at me, John Bender, his only son, I had lost my self-control.

"I said that you were a sniveling, pigheaded, sad excuse for a father that wouldn't know compassion if it hit him square in the nose." I regretted the words the moment they had left my mouth.

"Pigheaded? That's a new one for you, John. Did your smart-ass new girlfriend teach you that one or did you learn that all by yourself?" The last part was in a mocking, baby voice. I ignored his jab at Claire. "I wouldn't know compassion if it hit me in the nose?" He questioned rhetorically. "Well, let's see if you could recognize it."

My father's rough hands shoved me into the wall, a painting falling from the green drywall, crashing to the floor. I took my eyes off my father for a split second to see that the picture was of my family, from when I was young, six or seven years old, maybe, back when we were still pretending to be a real family.

I looked up from the pile of shattered glass just in time to dodge the bare knuckles heading straight for my nose. I turned quickly to run out the front door, but a hand had a hold of my long, dark hair. My father's hand dragged me backward making me regret not getting a hair cut like Claire had suggested.

My back hit the wall again, but this time a forearm was crushing my throat. I couldn't breathe. I struggled t remove my father's arm, gasping for breath. The man in front of me pounded my face repeatedly. I could feel a ring opening cuts in my skin every time it made contact. A ring that once stood for love and union was now represented by the blood and cuts and bruises forming along my cheeks and my eyes.

One last thrust of my father's fist into my stomach sent me to the floor, gasping and gagging, showing that I was defeated, that I am weak.

But I'm not weak. I seem to have to prove it to myself over and over, but I am not weak. Sometimes, I even try to prove it to my father. Maybe one day Good Ole' Dad will see that I am strong and that I don't take any crap from anyone. But rebellious ideas like these are what end me up with burns up and down my arms. Scars that never go away.

"Are you done crying yet?" I was only half aware that I had been crying. I wiped my nose noisily, leaving a trail of blood along my sleeve. I didn't wipe away the tears, though, knowing that I would look like a child.

"Stand up." My father ordered. I did as I was told. I was in no position to argue and I wasn't up for it either. I had better things to be doing.

Claire popped into my head for a moment. She was most likely waiting for me to pick her up like I said I would. Chances are I never show.

I focused on my father, now, who had lit a cigarette. I hoped and prayed that he would just let me leave, but I knew better. He took a few puffs of his cigarette, blowing rings of smoke into my face. A hand reached for my arm but I pulled back. I shook my head at my father, the man I used to care for, who I used to love. My eyes pleaded with him which made the man smirk.

"What? Is wittle Johnny afraid of a wittle burn?" he said in his baby voice again. The truth was that I was afraid. I was scared to death. To me, burns are the worst kind of pain. I'd rather be hit with that gold, wedding band a hundred times then be burned just once.

There was no way to avoid it. I could try to make a break for it, but I know it's no use. I backed up as far as possible into the wall behind me but my father was a determined man.

"Give me your arm, boy!" He snatched my right arm from behind my back, flicked my sleeve. Before I even had time to plead with him, I was screaming at the top of my lungs. Tears were bubbling in my eyes. I sank down the wall to the floor, shaking and breathing heavy.

As soon as my father had left the room, I shoved my car keys into my pocket and sprinted out the front door, still shaking and cradling my right arm.

**A/N:_So what did you think? Loved it? Hated it? Write a review telling me your opinion. Nice ones are always appreciated(they boost my self-esteem big time) but mean and negative ones are just as welcome. Thanks again! Love you all!_**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N once again:_haha rhyming. okay so here's the next chapter and it's ridiculously short. I know I know. Next chapter switches to Claire's pov. That might be up tonight but probably not because I only have half the chapter written and I always write things in my notebook before I type them, don't ask why, that's just how it works. Enjoy_**

**_Love you all,_**

**_~readlovehappiness_**

I couldn't go to Claire's. Not like this. My face was messed up big time, not that it hadn't been like this before, but I'd never show up at Claire's looking like this. I examined my face in my rear-view mirror. It was swollen and bloody; a dark ring was already forming around my left eye. I opened the car door and spit blood. I had bit my cheek when I was burnt. Slowly, I lifted the long sleeve of my shirt to examine my right arm. I gasped. The burn was a lot worse than I had expected. I pulled the sleeve back down not wanting to look at the injury my father had caused.

It was midnight. I couldn't even call Claire to apologize for standing her up. I was tired, worn out from the past couple hours. I started up the car and left the parking lot I had been parked in, heading in the direction of home.

Twenty minutes later, I was climbing in my bedroom window, collapsing on the bed. All too soon, the sun was shining brightly through cracks in my navy blue curtains. Slowly and painfully, my eyes opened. They had swollen even more while I had slept. I glanced at my watch and swore. I was late… again.

_**What did you think of this short ass chapter? It's three paragraphs. I don't even know why it's a seperate chapter. I should have just made it part of chapter 1. Whatever. Review please:3**_

_**~rlh**_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Okay so this looks really crappy now that I have it up in editor but I don't have Word on my computer at the moment so everything is terrible (I had to use notepad to type this... eep!) I hope you enjoy this lovely chapter. Not very long but It's still a chapter:) I'm trying to get back into writing so I'll probably have a few more chapters up soon. **

**Love,**

_**ReadLoveHappiness**_

He had stood me up and I was pissed.  
>"Have a great day, sweetheart!"My dad shouted sweetly from the car. He was always trying to win me over to beat out Mom. I waved my good bye and stomped up the stairs of Sherman High School. I didn't want to see him, or at least that's what I told myself as I walked to my locker. I turned the corner hoping John was waiting there as usual, smiling at me. But I was disappointed when I saw my best friend Becky who was still trying to convince me not to date John.<br>"I figured out another reason that you should dump Bender." She greeted.  
>"Oh, really. Well I've got my own reason, too. You first." I responded with heavy attitude.<p>

"Well, there's the first reason: He's a delinquent, and then there's the second: He's just not right for you." Becky stated in a matter of fact tone.

"Explain." I said in a cross tone.  
>"Well, your a prep, a straight A student, a princess and he's- well he's a druggie and a criminal! You guys have nothing in common!"<br>"Maybe you're right." I said, not meaning a word of it. I was growing tired of agreeing with everything my friends said.  
>"So what were you saying before, something about having you own reason?" Becky looked quite cheerful as if ending the relationships of her friends was her favorite pass-time.<br>"He stood me up last night."  
>Becky smiled quickly but then her face changed to a look of despair. "Aw, Claire , I'm sorry. He didn't call you?" I shook my head in response. I waited for him for hours. I would have forgiven John for not picking me up if he had called to explain, but he hadn't.<br>The bell rang to begin first hour. I trudged grumpily to my Calculus class which creeps along slowly. The class is only an hour long, it felt like a day. I went through two more boring, John-less classes, trying to pay attention. I struggled to stay focused on Chemistry and then on English, but thoughts of John kept creeping back into my head.

_Why hadn't he come to pick me up? Why didn't he just call me? It wasn't like him to forget to call. He called almost every night._  
>The bell rang again signaling the end of third hour. I waited for the rest of the class to leave before I stood up. Slowly, I walked the familiar route to my locker. Fourth period I had lunch. I could take as long as I wanted to get there. the bell rang to begin the period just as I was closing my locker. I slammed the door shut revealing a tall, dark haired boy sitting on the floor, pretzel style.<br>John wasn't looking up at me, but at the floor. The dark circles that seemed to be permanently stationed below his eyes were a blue-purple color normally seen with new bruises. I turned with a huff, heading in the direction of the cafeteria.

"Claire!" John yelled from behind me. I could hear large combat boots clomping along as he ran to catch up with me. "Claire, wait up! Let me explain."  
>I stopped walking and turned abruptly to face him.<p>

"Okay, John. Let's hear it then. Explain to me why you '_forgot_ to pick me up," My voice rose in pitch as my anger increased. "or why you _forgot_ to call and explain to me where you were and and why you weren't coming."

"Claire." John spoke my name in a slow whisper. He exhaled quietly and lifted his long, brown hair that I had just realized was covering part of his face. I gasped loudly. John let the hair fall back down so that it was covering his face again. He looked embarrassed, like it was a faux pas that he had cuts and bruises covering his face. He sort of resembled a child. Fear was hidden deep in his eyes, I could tell he was struggling to keep it from showing.  
>"John, I didn't know. I-I'm so sorry. What happened?" He began to speak but was interrupted by a hall monitor threatening John with yet another detention.<br>"I'm sure you wouldn't want another Saturday detention to add onto your increasing number of them, would you, Bender? What are you up to now? A month and a half?" The shrimpy hall monitor sneered. I saw the anger spreading across John's bruised face.  
>"That's what I thought. " The hall monitor said as I grabbed John by his left arm and dragged him toward his wood shop class. As the door approached, I felt John stop, but I kept walking, passing the door.<p>

"Where are we going?" The boy asked, obviously confused at why I had continued past his classroom. I ignored his question and continued through the back door of the school. Five minutes later, we were in the middle of the football field.

"What happened?" I asked quickly. John paused before responding as if collecting his thoughts. "My father..." He stopped to take a slow breath. "My father is a violent man. You remember when I talked about him at Saturday detention, well, I wasn't over-exaggerating."

**A/N yeah I know It's all messed up. I did my best. Love it? Hate it? Let me know. Hit the review button and tell how you feel.**

**Love,**

_**ReadLoveHappiness**_


	4. Author's Note: Writing Contest

Hi everyone! I entered the Seventeen Magazine writing contest and I was hoping that some of you could take the time out and read my story and heart my story. It would mean so much to me. I know many of you love my stories (even though I can't seem to complete them)! If I make top 50 for this competition it would make me the happiest girl in the world! Please go to this site: /books/206189-Gone

It only takes 2 minutes to read my short story. Please, from one writer/reader to the rest of you take the time to read this story.

I love you all.

~ReadLoveHappiness


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